The new monsters
no longer hide under the bed,
they're well fed little ******* that get into your system
and drain you of energy.

Facebook
wants to see what you're eating
see who you're meeting
watch who you're cheating with,
see pictures of dogs and cats
wolves in packs,

the marketplace took hold
and don't say that you weren't told,
buyer beware.

and now there is a private room
what goes on in there?

is Facebook going to share that too?

I didn't go down to the woods today
mum said to stay away,
never got to see the teddy bears play
perhaps it'll be released as a book,

some say the woods are a dangerous place
not fit for decent folk
I think the woods are delightfully good
so I think that must be a joke.
Anyway
Buzz Lightyear's here
and he'll keep me safe.

Paracetamol are what you take for a headache,
I've got one of those, a headache, not a Paracetamol
because I have two of those.

Eyes strain maybe
or the constant rain
maybe
or it could be me
maybe
thinking too heavily.

And maybe you think I'm a wimp

but the chemist's the **** and he
pimped me the pills
and he'll **** me some more
if I pay.

It'll soon be bedtime for the old timer but before that, there are things I must do and you knew that, didn't I think about you? I did and I do.

Ovaltine?
check
Teddy bear?
check
pyjamas on?
okay two out of three
is not too bad,
well
not before bed
anyway.

but the crooked remained crooked
weighting the scales
giving short measures,

and we poor fellows
always coming off the ropes
punch drunk dopes
thinking we're he-men stumbling
blindly on
knowing the truth but believing
the con.

The first law
of everything's better
than it was before
is don't believe
the first law.

A bit nippy out there
but I popped out and nipped
quickly back,
not before I was saved
in Stratford
by the Evangelists
the Buddhists and
The Seventh Day Adventists,
the Methodists were missing
and
the Islamists were setting up
their stall,

these are interesting times.

Facebook throws up memories as if it has had a good night out and drank a few too many.

ha, a good night out should not mean a day in bed to recover from it.

I have better nights out staying in
sharpening my wits,

my wits are about me and
never without me but at times
they are dulled by the day.  

I never told and Facebook doesn't know about
old Pop Pinder who was the headmaster at
St Anne's sometime back in '61 and apparently
he jumped from forty thousand feet without a
parachute,
it's no wonder that he's gone.

you can ask my brother if you don't believe me.

Then you realise what's bad for you is so very good,

don't follow me or that is what might be.

downhill is always quicker
and it's hard to climb back
but you'll do as you do
and not as I say
that's always the way
and I'm used to it.

As the morning rolls in the monsters drift off.

Someone said that they were dead
but we all know
that
they're only sleeping underneath the bed,
and
the sly ones hide in the wardrobe.

It's Friday?
do monsters get the weekend off?

Anyway
I'm not frightened by them now
I know most of them by name
but I like to play their game
and pretend that I am.

It's that time of year again
mulled wine or beer again,
Marley and the chains again
and the Pope will be out there
around in St Peter's square
giving it large with the Gospel,
and
I'll be at the hostel for lost travellers.

I suppose not being there yet is what you get when you wish on a dried up well.

The gipsy told me that folding paper felt better than coins in her palm,
trying to palm me off on the promise of better times?

but it's what you fall for that tends to cost more,
and I play Monopoly and so I should know.

They're raising the drawbridge and the portcullis is down,
they're tightening the screws and not only in town
it's happening everywhere, lines are being redrawn,
they treat us as if we're the devil's own spawn,

but we are Arthur's offspring
and he was a good and kindly King.

In these times of the greatest need when there are hundreds of thousands to feed
the greed at the top has to stop.

I call on Merlin to wizard incantations and spells
they called the copshop and the ******* put me in the cells

in the cave up on the mountain where all sorrows go to break lives the dragon with a heart of gold and the lady of the lake,

yes!
she lives on though Arthur has gone
the legend is a long way from home.

It is not nearly Christmas it is
Venice in nineteen seventy one
and there is death in the air.

but sometimes it is nearly and clearly it
sometimes becomes,

ah, there's
mistletoe and
all I do is kiss the
frostbite with nowhere and no one to turn to
nothing but blue crawling through
my veins,

Spain's on the agenda
meeting 1936 with the
death of Federico Lorca

and I'm sort of alive
but
it's still not nearly Christmas.

Europe's on the boil and
World War 111's a trend
Facebook's advertising trenchcoats
this could be the end,

but show me the picture of your dinner again
and what your cat did today.

Such misery on the faces of people sitting on their arses as if the underground was not much fun at all,
and those unlucky ones who have to stand with faces like slapped mackerel,

I look on and in some admiration watch them getting on and off at each and every station,

poor ******* don't they know the clock is ticking and looking sick in mind and soul only digs a deeper hole,

harried, hurried, married, buried
terminates at Clapham South.

Wanton
sounds like something off an Asian menu,
but I can assure you that it is not.

My dreams are taking a break
and the Lady within them
asks why
but when
you know it's a do or to die
I'd sooner take my time.

Boats
and sails
bring or buy
wear wellingtons
nothing's dry,

bring some *** for a
navy lark
and senior service if
you smoke after dark.

bedtime in blighty
She wore a nightie
I wore
una sonrisa
and
nothing more.

I wonder where she went to
and am
wondering how she got there
believing I should be there
but knowing that I'm not.

why?

you're waking from a dreaming state
and nothing that you thought was real
except perhaps,
dreams collapse the lines between the things we feel and cannot feel and see but do not see
and if that's true,
where did she go to?

They have taken the light away from the beginning and the end of the day
but where are they keeping it?
who
is saving it and for what?

poor people who ain't got a *** to **** in
and if they did have one that too would have gone with the last rays of the sun.

You'll probably outlive me and as such, you'll forgive me for making a misery out of Monday.

But at three when work's done I'll be free, there'll be fun,
but there won't be the sun, that's for the Summer.

I'm sending tomorrow to Coventry
because I know that Monday is not suitable for me
neither physically nor mentally and Coventry is
far enough away from me to believe that it might
not be a Monday.

The time's never right when the clock's running slow
and never wrong when you're late for the train.

Someone slipped those two lines in
and usually, I wouldn't complain
but I went through the hell of
cold turkey
I won't make that mistake again.

Paradoxically
rolls off the tongue
I don't know what it means
but the word sounds like fun.

*** again

I'm waiting to do
what has already been done,
I'll be here until Christmas
which might also be fun.

Ah
but that is subjective
and that rolls off the tongue
it sounds as good as paradoxically
so that too must be fun.

Sent in plain packaging?
haha
that's a dead giveaway
they might as well say
on the parcel
what it is.

Remembrance Sunday
and if you're hungover
I'll say it silently.
and those boys who did us proud
fading slowly into the last post
as the bugler calls time.

Bethnal Green,
been there
been seen there
got out of there
lickety-split.

Hey
it's okay
just not my cup of tea
it holds too many memories
for me.

On Saturday
I could
stay in bed and let
the morning
carry on without me.
I could but I never do.

There's a lot of magic in the early morning
which dissipates during the day.

I was dreaming of
Shoreham, Brighton,
Brigham Young,
Mormons, Mermaids,
lots of fun,
then I woke,
no seaside
just me
topside
in a storm of my own
making.

I didn't get to where I am
by staying where I was.

don't we all move along
though some go at a
snail's pace
and
I'm not saying that's wrong

it just takes longer.

It's our throwaway society
that brings on my anxiety,
am I to be thrown away too?

when you've passed a certain milestone
they want to start carving you a tombstone
and tell you that your house is not a home
without one of those in the wardrobe.

I might not live forever
but
believe me, I box clever and change my name
by deed poll every day

if they ever get me they won't know that I'm
not yet me because the papers will still be in the post.

Friday and I waffle on
no one hears me
they've all gone
I think I'm going soon.

If you can think that today will be a good day for the rest of the day it'll be the best day you've had in a while.
Friday is a great day and even better when work is done
Friday is the best day for boys like me to have some fun,
have you got the idea that I like Friday?

Old soldiers on patrol
scroll silently across my eyes,
'it's a long way to Tipperary'

They did it for the King
they did it for the Kaiser
some did it for Moderna
and some did it for Pfizer
but
we all do it for something
or another.

Even now
after all these years
the silence of the guns
seems somehow louder.

What will you do when cold winds turn you blue
and your home is a long way from the Summer?

The old girl in the doorway frantically looking for a way out
and yet she doesn't seem to move at all,

she's
between a rock and a hard place
and for convenience, we'll call the
hard place a wall
and her back's against it

Christmas time
and a fine time to be in the
firing line,

but we're all fine aren't we
full of bonhomie
joviality
or full of
me, me, me?

it's
easier to be
unaware of what's
going on
out there
when you don't see.

Feeling my way in the dark
not knowing what's real.

that's an old story now.

The lights thin, dim, flash bright
and I wonder, has the night come?
if not it will.

Touchtyping my way making keys
play those tunes that make light of
the day and knowing that nothing's
forever.

She tells me to hang on to the melody.

And we all hang on to something or someone
or am I reading it wrong?

So
Santa voted Tory
the *******
won't be coming down
my chimney,
I'm keeping the home fire
burning,

I'm not sure about the elves
but
if they voted Blue
they can *******
too.

I'm measuring minutes to see how far they'll go,
trying to stretch them out before I'm stretched
out with nowhere to go.

happy thoughts for a Wednesday?
but at this time I always think of that time
and that time will one day be this time.

My dream is becoming a waking one,
moving on seeing the ones who have gone,
all silent ones, flickering images on silvered glass.

Enough he cries, where's the coffee?
another drug to start the day
I pray that's all I'll take.

Imagine if
we got bonus points or gold stars for every day that we get through without anger or sadness and we could redeem them for prizes or donate them to charities.

I'm at the end of the day and stood by the battery charger hooking into the power grid and trying to get rid of this tiredness.
no points though, I missed out again.

Sometimes I look at people who are looking at people and wonder why do they look at people like that?
but
I look at people and I'm never judgemental because we all fit into the jigsaw to make the picture whole,
perhaps looking at people like that is a piece of the puzzle, I'd find that puzzling if it was so.

Already?
yes, it's already,
said he and
I knew what he meant.


It could be Tuesday
sleep has a habit of
changing the days,

it's dark
so it can't be Friday.

he who wishes life away
pays much more than I,
I want it to go ever so slowly
and I don't want to die.

The wind outside
***** in its breath
to blow
the night out,

it's
almost like a birthday
without the candles.

And now we have gargoyles
that spoil the view
they're made to look old
but we know they're brand new

living in townhouses
where you can't swing a cat
or in social housing
and you still can't do that.

times aren't changing
it's the rules on the move
split level playing fields
and it's hard to find the groove

at least with pigeon holes
we knew where we were.

'ask and you shall receive '
yeah, right,
don't believe it.
you
can ask until you're blue
in the face
and you still won't receive it

on the steps of austerity
the rich men look down on me
as if poverty is a disease.

No one is coming to help you
until you make that call and
you get through
then you'll hear,
please wait, all our lines are busy
at the moment

so you hold on
and you're good at doing that.

I'm very pleased to say that
today is back to work day,
well,
maybe pleased is going it
a bit strong.

Anyway
won't be long until Friday.

I miss those familiar faces
even when I take time to aim,
but
it's the middle of the night
old men and failing sight,
now
where was I?
oh yes
today is back to work day,
right!

I am Able.
There's been far too much of this chaos
I'm done with the raising of Cain,
I am seriously hoping good things happen
if not, it'll be more of the same.

I have forsworn the life left behind me
heading on to pastures anew,
when I get there
I will think of something
otherwise, I'll have nothing to do.

But it's Sunday
what else can I say
the church is on fire with the righteous
everyone burning to pray.

I hear the sound of distant bells
on a sleigh, so far away
but should they come
on Christmas day
then I shall say
a prayer to God
yes
I shall pray.

In the disenchanted forest
nothing much grows anymore
except for avarice and greed,

but everyone has an axe
to make their random attacks

faerie tales are different now,

Jack said,
**** the beans
I'm keeping the cow,
giants run amok as
little boy blue puts on
a frock
and Tom Thumb says,
hey
guess what I pulled out,

the three little pigs used semtex
Mary, Mary, practised safe ***
and
I'm not sure what happened to
Wee Willie's winkie

everyone's wanting the spotlight
and
a chance to chat on a talk show

but there's always one
the black sheep who
likes to keep things private.

I'm in two minds
the other minds are on holiday
or so the shrinks say
either way
who pays for your elucidation
and is education the same thing?

skipping on and stripping off now,
no
it's not part time employment
I'm only taking a bath.

He said they put him into the ocean
which sounded a bit fishy to me

but to me, even the sea sounds fishy
and what do I know anyway?

In that quaint elderly way
I've had a really nice lazy day,
I could get used to those.

and now it's a quarter to
and still nothing I want to do,

I'd better not think of going anywhere this evening
there's a basket of ironing out there
but for now
the slippers are on and I'm back in the old
easy chair.

...with the dogs that carry fleas...

they're at ease and like peas in a pod, I plod onwards going forwards and scratching occasionally.
and sometimes when I look back I can see the third man even if it isn't snowing,

She says,
what are you going on about?

I tell her that sometimes I had four or five books on the go at a time, delaying that excruciating moment of turning the last page.

I don't want the 'spirit in the sky' when I die
I want a library in the sky
I want Mum's apple pie
I want to see
if the never ending story ends.

meanwhile
Chaucer makes a good companion
and he's quiet.

We all know that pains come and go, but they're just
a reminder that there are better times out there
looking to find you
and we all should believe that they will.

love may be blind but we all go looking to find it,
look at me, as pernickety as any man could be
but even I could see what was good for me.

Whoa
I've had too many cornflakes
I'd better put the brakes on
or heaven knows
I might break out in a song
which is better than breaking out
in a rash I suppose.